Tell me, Madame Gobillot, are you certain that an amateur of art and the picturesque, travelling at this hour, would not be eaten by wolves or plundered by robbers in these mountains ?" "Our mountains are safe, Monsieur," replied the landlady, with offended dignity; "except for the pedler who was assassinated six months ago and whose body was found in the Combe-aux-Renards--" "And the driver who was stopped three weeks ago in the Fosse," added Mademoiselle Reine; "the thieves did not quite kill him, but he is still in the hospital at Remiremont." "Oh! that is enough to make one's hair stand on end! This is worse than the forest of Bondy! Truly, if I knew what direction my friend took this morning, I would follow him with my pistols." "Here is Fritz," said Madame Gobillot.

"He met a stranger in the woods who gave him ten sous for telling him the way to Bergenheim.

From his description, it seems that it must be the gentleman you speak of.

Tell us about it, Fritz." The child related in his Alsatian patois his meeting of the afternoon, and the artist was convinced that it was Gerfaut he had met.
"He must be wandering in the valley," said he, "dreaming about our play.
But did you not say something about Bergenheim?
Is there a village near here by that name ?" "There is a chateau of that name, Monsieur, and it is about a league from here as you go up the river." "And does this chateau happen to belong to the Baron de Bergenheim--a large, blond, good-looking fellow, with rather reddish moustache ?" "That's the picture of its owner, only that the Baron does not wear a moustache now, not since he left the service.

Do you know him, Monsieur ?" "Yes, I know him! Speaking of service, I once rendered him one which was of some account.